


How to do: Feelings

by DasChaosweib



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angry Aziraphale (Good Omens), Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Fluff, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-16 15:57:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20862044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasChaosweib/pseuds/DasChaosweib
Summary: Sodding feelings ruining everything after bloody Armageddon.Or: Crowley really struggles with his memories of a burning bookshop and Aziraphale in Hell. And he's really bad at accepting help.





	How to do: Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, please feel free to correct possible mistakes.  
Not Beta-Read.

Crowley was a demon. He was unable to love, he never experienced fear and he didn’t worry for others.

He was selfish in nature, he knew hate and anger and greed. He could spark fear and worry in others, lust and despair but he much certainly never experienced those himself. Never.

However, Crowley was past the point of pretending he didn’t like Aziraphale for a long time now. He knew he did. And he’d came to terms with the fact, that he was an exception. You can’t stick around one another for thousands of years, live through numerous plaques and watch while everyone around you was dying gruesomely without getting close. That it was forbidden made it basically a sin again and for that lined with his Demon nature. But that didn’t make him _soft. _It didn’t make him less evil.

The tears were only a reaction of his manifested body to the smoke and the lump in his throat must have come from the hot, dry air. He felt cold in the midst of flames, because he knew hellfire which burnt much hotter and had nothing to do with him frantically searching for any sign of the Angel.

The trembling of his voice was due to the flaring air, when he called Aziraphale’s name over and over again. His voice _did not _break, as he cried “I can’t find you”, through the noise of crackling fire feeding on wood and paper. On Aziraphale’s precious books.

He was glad, when the anger took over. The hate. It filled him up, while he left the book shop, the building behind him exploding in fire and smoke. Anger, he could work with. That feeling he knew, that feeling he could name.

He couldn’t even quite remember how he got anywhere, but at some point, he found himself in a bar, getting drunk. He felt empty which was worse than anything he ever felt, well except the fall but it was close.

_He is gone._ It was the only thing getting through the dark, thick fog. He didn’t bother searching for the antichrist anymore, Aziraphale was gone and without him the world didn’t matter anymore.

Back came the hatred, deep festering waves of self-hatred.

_You’re a demon for fucks sake! _ He was not supposed to feel this way! The Angel was gone, he shouldn’t even care, the less Angels the better! He should be preparing for war, should look forward to paying back those shallow, holy bastards thinking of themselves as superior because they have been too spineless to ask uncomfortable questions. To question the status-quo.

“I never asked to be a demon”, he slurred at the bartender bringing him a new bottle, all the injustice crushing down on him. The last time he’d felt that tearing loneliness had been right after the fall and he’d begged never to feel it again.

And then, just like that, Aziraphale was back. Well, kind of. Discorporated his shadow floated in front of his eyes and first he was convinced it was due to the alcohol while they chatted on like nothing had happened.

Like he didn’t care, Aziraphale asked: “Did you go to Alpha Centauri?” Yet the expression on his stupid, beau- his face gave him away.

It was out of question due to the alcohol, that his throat closed up. “Nah, I changed my mind. Stuff happened. I lost my best friend” His voice _did not_ break and he didn’t press his lips into a thin line to hide the trembling. He did it because he was mad. Angry really. Yes.

How dare he just turned up and pretended nothing had happened, asking him about Alpha Centauri and rambling about stupid stuff, leaving him to think that he-

After all, their arrangement wouldn’t work with any other Angel and there was the antichrist to deal with. Back in hell, there would be no Bentley, no rock music, no Az- alcohol.

The relief was only due to his plans working in his favour. Pure selfish reasons, all of them.

Anger and Hate and Selfishness. That were emotions he was capable of. He was a demon after all. And his manifested body needed a check-up.

* * *

Demons didn’t dream. They didn’t even sleep, really, but in the thousands of thousands of years on earth, Crowley had found it to be quite relaxing. It was like a power off button while time went by without any effort.

Yet lately it wasn’t that relaxing anymore. Pictures pressed themselves into his mind whenever he wasn’t keeping it busy, letting him roll around in his bed. It wasn’t a dream, of course, least of all a nightmare.

It was due to the stress that came with trying to stop Armageddon. With nearly being wiped out by holy water. With Aziraphale nearly being scorched from existence by hellfire. And the memory of how close the Angel had been to death, the image of him down in hell wasn’t hunting him because he was scared for Aziraphale, but because he worried for himself of course. If Heaven or Hell found out they swapped places than they would both be in trouble. Pure selfishness.

And yet…

Groaning Crowley threw his head from side to side, his fists clenched in the sheets.

“Shut your stupid mouth, and die already” Gabriel’s words echoed through his head over and over again. He’d never seen hate in an archangel’s face, it had twisted it into something terrifying.

Crowley drove to the book shop and could smell the smoke from afar. He heard the howling of sirens and shadows stood around the building, pointing and gasping.

Gabriel stood in front of it, a torch in his hand. The fire whispered malicious words of hate and hunger and doom. They’ve lightened the book shop with hell fire.

And Aziraphale burnt. He could hear the Angel scream and hammer his fists against the door. There was nothing he could do. Whenever he tried to get near the doors, the bookshop seemed to get further away from him, always at arm’s reach but always slipping away as soon as he thought he could touch it.

And Gabriel laughed. A cruel laugh mixed with the mean cackling of Beelzebub, who was standing next to him. And there was Michael, her face with the same emotionless expression as always, a spray bottle with holy water in her hand.

“You can’t taunt us, Crowley. It was a nice trick, but we got you in the end”, Gabriel smiled, that smile that looked warm but felt cold.

Aziraphale had stopped screaming and Crowley simply closed his eyes, as Michael aimed the spray bottle at him.

He woke with a choked yelp. Cursing to heaven and hell alike he got to his feet and aggressively pushed his hair back.

Before he could stop himself, his fingers already dialled the number of Aziraphale’s shop.

“Come on, come on, _come on!”, _he pressed through gritted teeth, while the phone rang.

Finally, someone picked up. “Crowley?”

The demon closed his eyes.

“Is… everything alright?”, the Angel asked concerned, and he noticed that he hadn’t said anything.

“Yeah, everything is perfect, why shouldn’t it be. Sorry, meant to call someone else, call you later, Angel”

“Crow-” He hang up.

Shame and anger and something he refused to name boiled up in his insides while he paced restlessly in his bedroom. Finally, he stormed towards the bathroom and took a hot shower. Another thing, demons didn’t need to do, yet he came to enjoy.

_You pathetic excuse for a demon_, he spat at himself, scrubbed his hair probably a little too harsh.

He felt like a ticking time bomb, as he came out the shower and decided to pay his plants a visit. Sometimes, he could hear them whisper to each other, yet it always died down as soon as they sensed him coming nearer. Nothing moved in the room, while he glared from one green leaf to another, searching for the slightest sign of imperfection.

The longer it took to find something, the angrier he got. Then finally, saw it. Something he probably had caused himself by stumbling into the plant while being drunk a few days back, but he’d never admit it.

“Is there a broken leaf”, he growled and the plants started trembling in terror. “IS THERE A BROKEN LEAF!”, he yelled at the top of his lungs and grabbed the plant by its stem to lift it in the air.

It didn’t end well for the plant, but he felt better afterwards.

Anger and hate. That was what he was supposed to feel. Nothing else.

* * *

It has been two weeks since the world didn’t end. It felt like it was hours ago.

Hours, since they both walked up or down from heaven or hell, whatever, and they swapped back bodies. The relief to see Aziraphale again mirrored on his own face by the Angel. Something changed then, something they both weren’t ready to name yet.

Crowley still wasn’t really over the fact that Aziraphale had turned down his offer to move in with him – only until he found something new of course. He even was a tiny bit angry at Adam for bringing the bookshop back into his not burned state. As much as the loss of the books had pained the Angel, Crowley couldn’t stop himself from feeling antsy when he was not around him. What if Heaven or Hell decided to try again?

No, it was for his own protection, Crowley told himself, that he wanted the Angel near him. If Hell decided to abduct him, they could quickly change bodies again provided they were willing to try the same trick twice. Completely demonic, selfish reasons.

Now he was staring at his ringing mobile phone staring at Aziraphale’s name. The Angel had tried four times, since Crowley had just hanged up on him, asking him via record to call him back as soon as possible and finally accusing him of simply not picking up.

He readied himself to improvise some excuse as he picked up the phone, but the Angel gave him no opportunity to do so.

“Crowley!”, the Angel exclaimed relieved. “You had me worried, is everything alright? Did you heard something from- you know” Crowley could imagine the Angel nervously pointing downwards with his eyes.

“Perfectly fine, sorry to worry you, stupid of me to get the number mixed up, like in old times, ey?” Even in his own ears he sounded a bit too cheerfully.

There was a pause. “Crowley, fancy to come around? There is a new restaurant in town-“

“I don’t really feel like going out, sorry”

“Oh”, he sounded disappointed. “Well, we can order something?”

“You detest delivery services”

“That’s not true”, the Angel lied poorly. “In fact, that new restaurant I talked about even delivers food”

Crowley sighed pinching his nose. “Alright, Angel. I’ll be there in two hours”

“Splendid”, the Angel beamed and hung up.

Two hours later, the Bentley came to a halt, Queen blasting through the windows. Aziraphale already awaited him, smiling at him brightly.

“So glad you could make it! Come in” The Angel watched him closely as he stepped inside, though Crowley pretended not to notice.

“I already ordered, I didn’t really know what you want so I just-”

“Ordered everything?”, Crowley grinned.

Aziraphale had set up a table in the middle of the book shop, a few candles lightening the room. However, there was a second table nearly completely covered in boxes.

“I had to choose blind, Crowley”, he whined as Crowley couldn’t keep himself from laughing. “How am I supposed to know what to pick if I can’t see any of it!”

“You know that greed is a sin, Angel?”

“I am not greedy”, the Angel huffed. “Just- poor at making decisions”

Crowley usually didn’t eat. And while his body didn’t slim too badly if he didn’t, one still could tell when he hadn’t indulged in food for a while.

That was when Aziraphale would convince him to share. Food was something, he didn’t really care about, sure there were things that tasted good, but it just wasn’t worth the effort. The only times he enjoyed meals, were in Aziraphale’s company and then it wasn’t really about the food.

The Angel made food seem like the sweetest of sins, the way his eyes fluttered shut when he tasted something new, letting out soft moans and gasps.

It usually made Crowley lose his thought or stop in the middle of a sentence and just stare at him with slightly parted lips.

However, today he didn’t pay much attention to the Angel or anything really.

While Aziraphale tried not to show too much how much he regretted ordering - “The parfait already starts to melt, look!” – Crowley stirred his tea he asked for, staring at the swirling liquid.

“Are you alright, Crowley?”

“Hmm?”, he asked absently, his mind lost in the crackling of fire, the smell of burning paper.

The Angel watched him attentively. “You seem… lost in thought”

Crowley didn’t want to lie. Not to the Angel, so he’d rather kept quiet.

He jumped, as a warm hand touched his. “Crowley, dear. What is it?”

The demon withdrew his hand like he burnt himself. “Nothing”

Now, there was a frown upon the Angel’s face. _Great. Once again you ruined it._

“You know, you don’t need to tell me. I just thought after what happened- Well. I guess I was wrong”

Crowley pressed his lips into a thin line. Dammit. He was glad about his glasses hiding his eyes. “Just- Well. Last time I had been here wasn’t exactly… pleasant”

The Angel arched an eyebrow in question.

“Last time I was here everything was on fire and I was sure you were dead”, Crowley forced out through gritted teeth. His voice _did not – absolutely not_ shake.

“Oh Crowley”, Aziraphale breathed and his face softened as he attempted to get up. Crowley shot up from his seat and brought some distance between them.

“Don’t you dare”, he spat. “I don’t need pity! I am a demon! What do I care, it was weeks ago!”

Aziraphale looked at him in surprise. “It’s not a bad thing to care, Crowley”

The demon nearly exploded. “NOT A BAD THING? But that’s the problem isn’t it? I am a demon, Aziraphale, I am _supposed_ to do bad things!”

The Angel stared at him like he saw him for the first time, while Crowley breathed heavily, his fists clenched tight. Then he averted his eyes. “I need to go. Thanks for the tea”, he murmured and left leaving a confused Angel behind.

* * *

He refused to name that feeling, that had built itself up slowly but steadily over the last thousands of years whenever the Angel did something bashfully stupid. That feeling, that in some moment grew so much, his chest felt like exploding, like when they had been in the Ritz after Armageddon and Aziraphale had this look on his face, when he toasted “To the world”.

It was the same feeling that was to blame for the crushing tearing in his chest, as he drove away from the book shop.

What the fuck was wrong with him?!

He’d regret his outburst as soon as he had left the book shop and he probably could have gone back, say he was sorry and start over, but there was still some pride in him left, that clung desperately at what was left.

He didn’t even listen to the song that was shutting out every other sound and the street in front of him was blurry. Definitely the windows.

When his phone rang showing Aziraphale’s number, he hesitated to pick up. Then there was the picture of the Angel being dragged off into hell in his head again, that made him grab his phone swearing.

“Crowley, where are you?”

“Driving”

“Just- What in heaven’s name is going on!”

The demon kept silent. Then he answered. “I don’t know”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”, the Angel’s voice was more severe than usual, reminding him that, yes, Aziraphale was a powerful being, even if he usually covered it up.

“I don’t know”, he yelled. “Just- Fuck!”, he slammed his fists into his wheel.

“Come back”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea”, he hung up. The demon pressed his lips into a thin line.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Aziraphale stood on the middle of the road, blocking the street with his body. Swearing Crowley pressed the brake as hard as he could, and the Angel backed away as the car came to a halt hardly an armlength away.

“You stupid Angel, Aziraphale! I nearly run you over!”, Crowley yelled as he got out the car, his heart beating way too fast. He still had his phone clutched to his ear. Angrily, he threw it away, aggressively grabbing the Angel by his collar and pressing him against his car. “What the fuck, Angel!”

“I was worried”, the Angel stated simply, staring at him with wide eyes, surprised not scared, like always when Crowley lost it.

Somehow, that took the wind out of the demon’s sails and he loosened his grip. “Sorry ‘bout that”, he muttered, straightening the collar.

“I might forgive you, if you agree to come back with me. I’d be a pity if I had to eat all that lovely parfait myself, no?”, the Angel suggested, offering him his hand. Crowley took it and allowed Aziraphale to lead him back to the car.

“You’re insufferable, you know that right”, he muttered.

* * *

The ride back was quiet. Neither Crowley nor the Angel said something. Sometimes Aziraphale did this thing, where he looked at the demon out of the corner of his eye and then pretended, he didn’t.

They reached the book shop in less than 15 minutes. Aziraphale had let the candles burning, which Crowley noticed with a flicker of anger. “Not like everything burnt down a few weeks before”, he murmured to himself so the Angel couldn’t hear.

The table was still where they left it, so were the candles and the food which still looked like it was only delivered a few minutes ago.

“A small miracle on my behalf. I detest cold food”, the Angel huffed, as he drew back a chair and offered Crowley a seat.

The demon felt nervous and out of place, as he took it. A new cup of tea stood in front of him.

As soon as the Angel sat opposite to him, Crowley cawed: “Listen-”

“No. I shouldn’t have pressured you into talking about something you are obviously not ready to talk about. When you are, no matter the time, you know where to find me. Just- Please don’t shut me out. We didn’t stop the end of the world to avoid each other, did we?”

The gratitude bubbling inside Crowley made him light headed and he couldn’t hide the small smile creeping on his face. He nodded, then reached for his fork.

It was almost like before those last two cursed weeks. They were talking and joking, and Crowley was watching Aziraphale eat, sometimes taking one or two bites himself.

As it started to get late, they moved over to the soft armchairs in the back of the shop, as the Angel poured them some wine. Slightly drunk, they ended up close to each other on the couch, lost in dialogue, their thighs loosely touching.

Aziraphale just told a story about a funny encounter with the archangels and Crowley listened, a fond smile on his lips he didn’t even notice.

“And then Michael-” Aziraphale chuckled, gesticulating frantically.

That’s when Crowley’s gaze fell upon the flask filled with white wine. In the dim light it almost looked like-

“Holy water”, Crowley rasped.

“Sorry, dear, what did you say?”

The demon stared at the flask, unaware of his surroundings. When he tilted the glass a bit too far, wine splashed on his trousers. Cursing, he put the glass back on the table, rubbing at the stain. The Angel looked at him alarmed.

“Crowley?”

“I am _fine_”, he spat, jumping up. “Stupid wine, just-”

“It’s really not that bad, Crowley. You can just miracle it away”, the Angel tried to calm him down, reaching for him but the demon slapped his hand away.

“I can’t do this”, he groaned, digging his fingers in his hair. “Look what a sorry excuse for a demon I am!”

“Darling”, the Angel began reaching for him again, but as Crowley shook his head violently, he stopped.

“I can’t stop seeing you burn. Or the shop. Or the world. And everywhere something reminds me of it. I feel like we’re in danger constantly and I. Can’t. Stop. It”, the demon had started hitting his fists against his head.

Quickly the Angel caught his hands in his and hold them. “Crowley, look at me”

“I am not supposed to be like this. I am a servant of hell, for fuck’s sake, I should glee at the sight of danger and pain not _fear_ it” There. He’d admitted it. He was afraid.

He froze. And by the look on Aziraphale’s face he surprised the Angel just as much as himself.

Crowley had always been proud of being different. He’d never wanted to fit in with the rotting, stinking, dump, disgusting- well. The others.

If he had to endure being fallen for eternity, then he would celebrate it in his own style.

Now it scared him. What if he’d wandered off too far? He wasn’t an Angel anymore, God had made sure of that. He was a demon. If he stopped being that as well then- well. He didn’t know if one could stop being a demon, but before the fall he also hadn’t thought it possible, that one could stop being an Angel. And if it happened, what else would be left of him, really? He already lost his path once, the thought of what would happen if he lost it again was too terrifying to imagine.

“Fuck, dammit, SHIT!”, he yelled, pacing. “Fucking hell, fucking ruining everything and those bloody Angels flying around thinking they are so fucking perfect, killing each other with sodding hell fire!” He stood and turned to face the Angel. “It’s not my fault! I never wanted there to be two sides! I just didn’t know better!” Now he aimed his screaming directly at God, yelling towards the ceiling: “Do you hear me?! You can’t blame me for not knowing better!”

He felt like crumbling into million pieces and it made him so angry. He felt a hand on his arm and saw Aziraphale standing next to him, a pained expression on his face. The anger faded and he just felt so tired and lost and small. Forgotten by god, left and tossed aside for a stupid mistake.

He allowed the Angel to tug him closer and let Aziraphale wrap his arms around him, drawing him into a warm hug. Crowley knew the Angel’s scent from memory. Books and spices and purity. He closed his eyes and hid his face in Aziraphale’s neck, taking deep steadying breaths. Definitely _not_ shaky ones.

“I am sorry”, Aziraphale said softly and Crowley clawed his hands into the Angel’s back, pressing his lips into a thin line.

After a few minutes, the demon slowly drew back. “Sorry ‘bout that”, he murmured, avoiding the Angel’s eye and secretly wiping his eyes. Stupid dusty books.

“Don’t be. I am glad you told me”

“Yeah, well…”, the demon shrugged awkwardly.

“Crowley?”

The demon looked up. “I am not burning. And you’re not extinguished by holy water. We’re both fine” He hold the Angel’s gaze for a few seconds than averted his eyes.

“Yeah. Right. I know.”

A fond smile stole itself on Aziraphale’s lips. He took Crowley’s face between his hands and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, his nose and finaly met his lips.

Crowley’s eyes fluttered shut on their own, the bubbling feeling growing in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

It was just a soft pressure of lips but he hungered for that softness so much. After what felt like just a few seconds, the Angel drew back.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a few seconds, then before he could do something stupid, he murmured: “I… should go”

The Angel looked at him with an unreadable expression, the shoulder’s slightly sinking. “Then… shall we have lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah”, he croaked, already on his way to the door. “Lunch. Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 2” 

* * *

Aziraphale kissed him.

Aziraphale _kissed _him.

Crowley paced around his flat for hours now. He knew they cared for each other. He knew, he loved the Angel. And he knew, the Angel knew ‘cause to be honest, at some point he hadn’t even bothered to hide it anymore. But never ever had he imagined, Aziraphale, oblivious, prudent “You move too fast for me” Aziraphale to make the first step. After all, back then he’d just offered him a ride. After 6000 years.

He’d come to terms with the fact, that he’d just be in unrequired love with the Angel forever, not because Aziraphale didn’t love him back, Crowley knew he did, but because it was forbidden and the Angel didn’t do forbidden. Well, maybe, sometimes but not _that_ forbidden. Sinful, really. Besides, there was a difference between the chaste love of an Angel and… well his demony-lustful kind.

In love with an Angel. Sometimes he wondered if he was just… a very weird Demon or if it was due to the fact, that he’d spend so much time on earth.

For a second, he imagined Beelzebub trying to chat up Gabriel and choked down a snort.

Somehow, he never thought about what would happen after they stopped Armageddon. At least, he hadn’t imagined Heaven and Hell to turn on them both. Well, from Hell he hadn’t expected any different, but Heaven? Those stupid Angels were supposed to be better than that.

_“Shut your stupid mouth, and die already”_ Crowley shuddered.

At least he’d scared the shit out of the Bastard, as he’d stick out his serpent tongue.

Time didn’t go by, it seemed like another 6000 years until it was finally late enough to just be too early a little. He could pretend he’d been on the go anyways, some appointment, something important and just happened to be done early. Pure coincidence.

When he parked in front of the bookshop, Aziraphale looked out of the door in honest relief.

“You came!”, he sighed, as he got in.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, the Demon answered surprised. “Of course, I came, when did I ever not come!”

“I wasn’t sure if- After yesterday evening…Well, I am aware my timing wasn’t the best but-”

Crowley groaned. Of _course_, the Angel would worry if he just stormed out after- “Don’t worry, Angel”, Crowley sighed. “I’m just an idiot. I- Didn’t have any intention of blurring out more stupid feely stuff so…”

“I like stupid feely stuff”, the Angel replied with a small smile.

“Yeah, I noticed”, the Demon huffed fondly. “Just- I really need alcohol first”

“It’s mid-day!”, the Angel exclaimed scandalized.

“Jep”, he said, popping the p.

“Actually”, the Angel said, shooting him a disapproving frown. “I thought we could make a picnic”

“What is it with you and picnics?”, Crowley asked, shooting the Angel a fond glance, as he already reached for a basket.

“They’re exciting. And romantic”

_“Romantic, _is it?”, Crowley teased and felt quite smug about the redness appearing in the Angel’s face.

“Oh stop. You know what I mean”

“Will there be champagne?”

“Well, of course”

“Then, please, let’s have a picnic”

Aziraphale had ordered Crowley to stop by a patisserie and had come back with a seemingly much heavier basket and a beaming face. “You will love this”, he’d promised as they drove to wherever the Angel was leading him.

The place Aziraphale chose was nice. It was a bit off road near a lake. The grass was soft and even, so they could place the plates and cups without worrying of spilling anything. There were birds singing and a tree offering shade. It was peaceful and exactly the kind of place the Demon had expected Aziraphale to choose.

“Ready?”, the Angel asked with excitement in his voice.

“Can’t wait”, Crowley answered smirking, as the Angel opened the first box.

In perfect line there were five different kinds of chocolates, beautifully decorated with small bows and flowers and stuff. Not the kind of thing Crowley fancied, but the look on the Angel’s face definitely was.

Aziraphale was looking at the sweets like he used to look at each new creation of God he encountered. Full of wonder and appreciation and love. Carefully, like he didn’t want to break it, he took one out, looking at it with such glee, it made the weird feeling in Crowley’s chest swell again.

Then, against the Demon’s expectation, he didn’t bring it to his own lips but instead offered it to Crowley. “Here, have a try”

“But-”

“Try it”, Aziraphale urged. “There is another one in the box, but I want you to try first”

“Want to check if they are poisoned, ey?”, the Demon joked to cover up the tightness in his throat.

“They wouldn’t poison them and I would never-”, the Angel exclaimed shocked.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “It was a joke, Angel”

Then he leaned forward and carefully bit from the chocolate, his lip brushing the Angel’s finger. It was sweet and melted on his tongue. He could see Aziraphale watch him closely, eyes wide.

The Demon couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Like what you see, Angel?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat and averted his eyes blinking. “Don’t know what you mean”, he mumbled, eating the other half of the chocolate.

The picnic was nice, the Serpent in Crowley enjoyed the sun on his skin. He felt warm and fuzzy and for a few hours if felt like Armageddon never happened. Well, it _didn’t_ but… you know. While they chatted about various things like what could Anathema and Newton be up to (“They’re probably fuc-” “Crowley!”), the Demon casually rested a hand on the Angel’s leg. Aziraphale didn’t say anything, just beamed at him from time to time.

“You know, Angel”, Crowley muttered, drawing patterns on the Angel’s trousers. “I think I understand your obsession with picnics know”

When he sat the Angel off, they both decided to meet for Dinner tomorrow. The Angel leaned over his seat to peck him on the cheek, then left. And Crowley _did not_ grin like an idiot.

* * *

8 o’clock could as well be next century, while the Demon paced in his flat. He’d dreamt again, of fire and smoke, yet had stopped himself from calling Aziraphale this time. He wouldln’t make a fool of himself twice.

He’d spent two hours screaming at his terrified plants. When he finished, the leaves wouldn’t stop shaking, he lost two plants and his voice hurt.

Finally, it was time to get in his Bentley and drive towards the bookshop. He knocked at the door and entered.

There was smoke everywhere and the panic grabbed at him before he could help it. “Aziraphale”, Crowley cried looking frantically for the Angel. “Aziraphale, Angel, where are you?!”

A head appeared in the door. “I am here, Crowley”

He couldn’t stop the shaking as he clung to his friend. “Oh thank God- Satan- oh, fuck it. I thought- I was sure you-”

“Shh, it’s alright”, the Angel comforted him obviously quite startled, softly caressing his hair.

“What the actual _fuck_, Aziraphale”, Crowley finally let out, pushing the Angel away and eying him angrily. “What is all that smoke?”

“Well I…” The Angel scratched his head in embarrassment. “I thought now that I have some free time, no orders coming from heaven and all I could learn how to cook”

Crowley’s face fell. “You tried to- You tried to COOK?”

“Yes well, the humans make it look so easy so I thought I could give it a go myself”, he shrugged. “Wasn’t very successful. Obviously”

The demon stared at him in disbelieve. Than he started laughing. The Angel first looked offended, then started chuckling himself. The demon let his head sink against the Angel’s shoulder. “You’re going to kill me someday”

“Well, not today I hopefully won’t”, the Angel said softy.

Crowley’s chest nearly burst, as the Angel kissed him. His whole mind was cheering _Yes, yes, yes,_ as the Angel’s hands rested at both sides of his neck, holding him softly in place. Not like he could move anyways; his whole body could as well have been made from custard.

Slowly, they both moved in some direction, until the Demon’s back hit a shelve.

He’d never understood what the Angel found so fascinating about books. They were too slow and steady, they didn’t change, they weren’t loud, they weren’t _exciting._

_And they stink when they burn. _He could feel heat on his skin and the crackling of flames.

Growling, he pressed himself closer to the Angel, desperate to keep his mind occupied with the Angel’s lips gently moving against his own.

_“I am not burning”, _he heard the Angel’s voice in his ear.

_But you could be._ Swearing, he broke the kiss and pressed his eyes shut.

“Crowley?” The Angel asked with a questioning look.

The Demon just shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line.

The Angel hesitantly took his glasses of, looking at his face. “Are you-”

“Yes, I am alright, splendid”, Crowley huffed frustrated.

“Please stop saying that”, the Angel said softly, placing a hand under the Demon’s chin and guiding him to look up.

Crowley laughed an unhappy laugh. “What am I supposed to say instead?”

Aziraphale stopped to think for a moment. “I hurt”

The demon tensed. “Shut it”

“I am scared”

_“Shut it”, _he hissed.

“I feel it, too”, the Angel said, smiling at the Demon’s surprised face. “What? I watched you being dragged into heaven, not knowing if they’d find out and extinguish you. Of course, I can’t just carry on like nothing happened”

Crowley brought some distance between them. “Well, yeah but you’re an Angel, Aziraphale! I am a Demon! I shouldn’t-”

“Oh, you stubborn old Serpent”, the Angel huffed. “Since when do you care what you should or shouldn’t do? Besides, just because someone tells you what feelings you are capable of, you believe them?”

“That’s rich coming from an Angel”, Crowley spat. “Aren’t you all about believing whatever you are told? The loving and gracious lot? And we are the mistrustful, evil, twisted-“, he broke off and snorted in disgust.

“Yes”, he agreed hastily, then flustered: “I mean, no! I mean- I came to question a lot the last few weeks. Like you have, probably. It has been… unpleasant” He shot a nervous gaze towards Heaven. “I still love her with all my heart, I just think that her will is… misinterpreted by some. And that the Devine are not free from said misinterpretation. Not lies of course just-” He nervously bit on his bottom lip. “Half-truth”, he ended carefully.

“Angel-”

“My own people tried to burn me!”, there was an anger and hurt in his voice, that made his face just as terrifying as Gabriel’s. “That could not have been her will. I refuse to believe that”

_Shut your stupid mouth, and die already. _Crowley’s hands shook slightly, as he clenched his fists.

“And Holy Water in hell”, the Angel shuddered. “The more I question, the more I worry if I am getting closer to falling-”

The Demon grabbed the Angel by his shoulders, making him look up. “You won’t”, Crowley cut him off matter-of-factly, putting as much determination in his words as possible. “You believe in her. You still love her. I couldn’t. At some point, I stopped trusting her. But you won’t”

The Angel watched him for a few seconds and silence spread between them. Then his face softened again. “How about we get dinner, now?”

“Yeah”, Crowley mumbled. “Good idea”

* * *

Somehow, having heard that Aziraphale struggled as well, made things easier. At least, he wasn’t alone in this. Which he had to remind himself of constantly.

Aziraphale and him against the rest of the world, as it always had been.

The memories of Armageddon, of fire and smoke remained, yet they became less present the more time he spent with the Angel. It also helped, that the Angel stopped fussing so much, when he got lost in thought, just gently tugged him back to reality, acting as if nothing happened. (Later he told him, he decided to read up about how to deal with “flashbacks” in human literature).

After one evening’s dinner, they decided to drive back to Crowley’s place, as both weren’t willing to part ways yet and as the Demon let him in, Aziraphale examined his surroundings curiously.

“I’ve never been at your place before”, he said with a small smile, wandering towards the plants. Crowley very well hoped for those miserable pieces of cellulose that they didn’t slouch or showed any spots or-

“I didn’t know you were fond of plants”, Aziraphale said, gently touching a big leave of his monstera, which was secretly his favourite.

“Yeah, well-”, he shrugged, glaring at the leave basically currying favour with the Angel.

Finally, they sat down on the cosy leather couch, Crowley had miracled just before they entered the flat, a fancy bottle of wine at hand (that he hadn’t specifically saved for an occasion like this).

Somehow, having the Angel in his flat made him… nervous. If felt strangely private and he couldn’t stop but wonder what the Angel thought.

They drank and talked and at some point, talking became kissing. The chaste kind of kisses, full of love and care the Angel provided him with. It made the Demon’s heart flutter and yearn for more, yet he’d been hesitant to attempt anything. It took 6000 years to accept a car right, after all. But somehow, being in his own flat with the Angel leaning against him, he decided to give it a try.

Crowley’s heart nearly exploded, as he attempted to deepen the kiss, flickering his tongue across the Angel’s lips like a question. Apparently, he needn’t have worried, as the Angel’s tongue licked at his bottom lip as well, gently sucking it in.

The demon couldn’t stop the little moan escaping him, as the Angel’s hands gently pressed against his shoulders, pushing him until Crowley came to lie on the Couch, the Angel above him. The Demon grabbed the Angel’s thigh, pulling him closer.

Aziraphale looked at him with a flushed expression. “You’re- So you want to-”

“Damn right”, Crowley growled, pretending his throat didn’t just close up. Then, a bit more contained: “That is… if you want to. I mean. You’re the Angel. I know you’re not supposed to indulge in… lust. Not that this is different, but-”

The Angel cut him off affronted. “Of course, it’s totally different! That’s love, not lust!”

“Oh” The Demon shivered. “Well. Alright then”

The Angel huffed, a small smile on his face. “So, where were we? Ah, yes: I love you”

“I love you”, Crowley replied with a raspy voice. “And now get it on already, or I swear to God- Satan-” The Angel shut him up with a heated kiss.


End file.
